Paper Man

I stood in line with the other Paper Men and Paper Women.  We all looked basically the same: yellowed paper skin, spitballs for eyes, hair made of miniature scrolls.  We were waiting to get into Made It, a commercial complex for highly successful persons, in hopes of showing them what we were made of.  Literally.    

The line outside Made it ran down the sidewalk and curled around the corner.  The city was noisy and densely packed.  Cars honked.  Heels clicked.  Voices cussed.  

It was cold enough to make the ink in my body run sludgy.  I rubbed my parchment hands together gently, afraid if I rubbed too hard I’d cause a spark. I fantasized about what it would be like to have an office in Made It.  It would certainly be warmer.  

Several hours passed before it was my turn to enter the office.  When I pushed through the front door, I came into a stunning reception area.  It had water features, spiral staircases, and tinkling piano music.  A Plastic Woman sat at a desk in the center of the room. Her hair was a perfect orb of yellow Bakelite, and her neck was a long plastic cylinder of high-density ployethylene. Her face beamed in a rigid smile of blinding white fiberglass. She didn’t blink.  Not once.  

“Welcome to the Made It, Paper Man.  I’m the administrative assistant, Ms. Glossnglamor.  You’ll first be seeing Suit Woman. When you get into the hall, go to the first office on your left.”  

I looked around, but didn’t see a hall anywhere.

“Oh, sorry, Paper Man.  I forgot you’re a novice.  Walk straight back past a big picture of some old guy and you’ll be in the hall.” 

I did as Ms. Glossnglamor said.  The picture she referred to was a gigantic portrait of Johannes Gutenberg.  He scrutinized me with eyes the size of manhole covers as I walked by.   

After I passed the portrait, I hesitated at a mood-lit waterfall, which appeared to be a dead end. Harp music drifted to my ear, then the waterfall parted in front of me, revealing a hallway.  I walked into the hall and found the first office on the left.  A plaque over the door said “Suit Woman” in bold letters.  I knocked with three timid taps, and then a voice grunted for me to enter.  

I opened the door to Suit Woman’s office, and the spotless interior shocked me.  Its modern-industrial decor was sparse and monochromatic.  There were no chairs for me to sit in, so I walked to where I thought chairs should be and just stood there.  The figure behind the desk was writing something.  

“Uh, Ms...?” I ventured.  

The person eyed me briefly, and then returned to her work.  The Suit Woman’s face was pinstripe peach fabric.  Her teeth were square white buttons, and her tongue was a fashionable red belt.   

“Whatcha got?  I haven’t got all day,” said Suit Woman without looking up.  

This was the moment.  If Suit Woman liked what she saw she would make copies of it, and if those copies sold well I could have an office at Made It.  I took a deep breath, and tore off my index finger.  It hurt, but I knew it was my big chance.  Ink dripped from the stub where my finger had been.  I slid my hand into my pocket, trying to look casual.  

She unrolled my finger, and glanced at the words written inside.  She clicked her tongue and shook her head.  

“Not big enough.  I only work with big stuff.  Try Art Woman.  Maybe she’ll help you.”  

She crumpled up my finger and tossed it into the wastebasket.  I tried to say something and she waved her hand dismissively.  I turned and walked back into the hall.   

On my way to Art Woman’s office, I saw a janitors’ closet.  I ducked inside and grabbed a bucket.  Suit Woman said I needed to do it bigger, so I intended to really impress Art Woman.  I knocked confidently at Art Woman’s door.  

“Come in,” said a dreamy voice. 

As I entered, I had to step around six papier-mache cats sleeping on a pile of velvet tapestries.  Stacks of books stood in uneven columns everywhere.  A haze of incense smoke made it difficult to see, but at the far end of the office I could make out a figure lounging in her desk chair.   

As I approached, I saw that Art Woman’s hair was a greasy-looking nest of paintbrush bristles.  Her nose was a lump of potter’s clay.  She drummed her calligraphy-pen fingers on her desk and stared at me.  

“Well?” she said.  

“Uh, sorry.  Here’s my work.”

I reached down and tore off my leg just below the knee.  I slid the bucket under the stump to catch the ink that poured from it.  It was so painful that beads of binding glue gathered on my forehead as I laid my leg on his desk.  

She took one look at my leg and didn’t even unroll it.  She just slid it off his desk and into the trash.  

“I’m really not connecting with your vision. It’s far too big.  Art needs to be intimate.  A juxtaposition of light and dark, examining the existential experience of people within the postmodern societal paradigm...”

She said a lot more things but I stopped paying attention.  I was losing a lot of ink, and since she had never said I could sit down, I was just standing there dripping into the bucket, trying not to pass out.  

“But Suit Woman just told me I needed to do something big. Now you are telling me I need to make something smaller and more intimate. I’m confused,” I ventured as I balanced on my remaining leg. 

She sighed, stroking a crystal pendant around her neck. “This is a subjective business, Paper Man.” 

“Is there anything else I can do? I really want to be part of Made it!”

“Well, I guess you could try Big Man.  Usually he’ll only talk to people that Suit Woman recommends.  But you could try it.”  

I thanked Art Woman for her time and hopped out of her office.  Some of my ink sloshed out of the bucket onto her rug.  I hoped she wouldn’t notice.  

The last office was way at the end of the hall.  It took a long time to get there on one leg.  My paper-bag lungs crinkled loudly as I tried to catch my breath.  I took a moment to compose myself before I went in. 

“Well, I guess this is my last chance,” I whispered to myself.  “I’ve gotta make it more intimate.”  

Big Man’s office door opened into a gigantic room, probably fifty feet high.  It was dark, cold, and completely empty except for a desk the size of a motor home.  Big Man sat in a monstrous ergonomically-designed desk chair.  He was at least thirty feet tall, and nearly as wide.  Other than his immense size, he looked like an ordinary human.  He snored and smacked his lips, oblivious to my presence.  

“Excuse me, sir?” I said. 

Big Man slept on.  

“Excuse me?” I said a bit louder.  

“Big Man!” I shouted.  

The giant stirred.  He gave a snort and wiped the drool from his mouth.  “Wassit?  Who’s there?”

“Um, it’s me, one of the Paper Men.”

“Aw gawd,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “Go see Suit Woman, will you?”

“I already did.  She told me to see Art Woman.  Then Art Woman told me to see you.”

He sighed.  “Fine.  Show me what you’ve got.” 

I had to give him the most intimate thing I could think of.  My hands shook as I unbuttoned my shirt.  I steeled my nerves for a moment, and then I tore open my chest and yanked out the tiny typewriter inside.  It typed rhythmically:  Click-Clack, Click-Clack, Click-Clack.  

“Here it is!” I said.  “The source of all my ink.  Take it, Big Man!” 

Nothing happened.  I stepped back and peered over the edge of the table.  Big Man had fallen asleep again.  One of his hands fell from his lap and he let out a long, low fart.  

I didn’t even try to wake him up.  I was crushed by how little he cared about my typewriter heart, so I tossed it in the giant garbage can to save him the trouble.  I limped out of the room, not bothering to take the ink bucket with me.    

By the time I reached the hall, my sadness had turned to rage.  I was so frustrated by the way Made It had treated me I decided to do something really crazy.  They would never forget this Paper Man, no sir.  

“Highly successful persons of Made It, come out of your offices, I command you!” I screamed.  

Suit Woman and Art Woman came out of their offices, looking annoyed.   

Big Man even came lumbering out of his office and stooped in the hallway. 

“You never appreciated the pieces of me I showed you!  Now you will have to live with what you’ve done.  Behold Inferno Man!”   

I cackled like a lunatic and rubbed my hands together furiously until a spark flickered to life.  My dry paper-skin caught fire, and I patted my flaming hands all over my body.  I stood before them, blazing in self-destructive glory.  The pain was unbearable, but the satisfaction was greater.  I looked up at their faces, ready to bask in their horror and regret.  

They didn’t look terrified by my actions.  Suit Woman gnawed on the shiny fabric of her fingernail, while Art Woman paced on her easel legs, and Big Man rubbed his eye and yawned.  They looked bored.  

I felt a single drop of glue run from my eye before I fell in a smoldering heap on the hallway floor.  

Art Woman grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and sprayed the pile of dust.  She nodded to Suit Woman.  

Suit Woman pressed a button at her collar.  “Ms. Glossnglamor?”

“Yes?” came a chipper voice through the device.  

“Can you call the janitor?  We have another Ash Man.”  She shook her head.  “It’s the third one this week.” 

Thanks for reading! I’ll be back with another tale in November. Hey, maybe I’ve mentioned it before, but did you know I have a dark fantasy book series called LUNAR LIVES? I humbly request you buy the first book in the series, SCAB AMONG THE STARS for the mind-bogglingly affordable price of 99 cents here In the event that you have already purchased SCAB and are dying for more, please purchase the sequel, ECHO FROM THE VOID here Or buy both at the same time! Ratings and reviews on Amazon and Goodreads encouraged! But only if you think it is great. Otherwise, be like us polite Midwesterners and make awkward conversation to avoid saying something disagreeable. I’m always open to chatting about the story, leave a comment or message me!